


Deity

by Birdbf



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Alternate Universe - Absolute Zero, Alternate Universe - Human, Dubious Morality, M/M, Magic-Users, Mind Manipulation, Monsters, mythical beasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbf/pseuds/Birdbf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avies Aurum seeks the Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein out to make a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marked

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a lot of fun writing for Absolute Zero verse. I love the concept of magic and monsters added to Hatoful Boyfriend. Anghel definitely has the right idea.
> 
> Avies Aurum, The Golden Winged Messenger, is Tohri Nishikikouji! Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein is Shuu Iwamine. Cain Reprobus, aka Fantail Knightmare aka Apostle of the Violet Rose, is Yuuya Sakazaki.

Oh, today could not get any worse! Avies Aurum threw his arms up in air, wooden posts in his hands. Turning his arms a bit, he started twiddling with his marionette to his sides. One marionette appeared to look just like him at a smaller scale, the other like.. some strange, curly ram-horned stranger. The inside of his home was cool, and well-ventilated, if not poorly lit. The flooring was mahogany wood, and not a very comfortable place for Aries to lay.

The smaller version of himself danced by his sides, bouncing on the hardwood. The doll was a small, porcelain and cloth mimic of his own self, wiggling at its jointed arms and legs, shimmying about as his strings were pulled. While most of Avies’ marionettes were enchanted, this one was not and did not control his body. 

The other one at his opposite side was, however. The Golden Winged Messenger rattled the other ram-horned puppet, shaking it back and forth haphazardly. The strings dangling above the stranger’s puppet glistened gold, glowing to indicate the magic Avies’ was using to manipulate the puppet.. 

Far off, several dozen miles away, the demon recipient of this torment was starting to feel dizzy. Maybe he had been awake for too long, as his psuedo-mortal body did sometimes require sleep.. And it did often take a lot of effort to maintain this form. When he grew tired, or when he was at home inside of his castle, his more demonic features would appear. 

This demon was the Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein. Running his gloved left hand down his right wrist, he tested the runic powers engraved in his leather gloves. Three of these runic patterns out of five begun to glow, the final two a dull gray, indicated he was being hexed and needed to rest soon. A hex meant someone was challenging him, but he was currently busy studying. Sealing his book after sliding his golden feather bookmark into his current page, he adjusted in his seat.

His soft, shifting cow’s tail swayed side to side, slapping the backside of Wallenstein’s wooden chair as he stood, leaning over his desk. His room was starting to get dark while he was zoning into his book, so he was guessing he’d have to light his candles soon. The room seemed to get darker as he stood, the setting sun ducking just in time to leave Wallenstein in the dark.

With a sigh, he fumbled through the small jars in his shelves, searching for his dispersing spell bottle. It was still hard to see, even with his glowing, square pupil eyes. They reflected light, but there wasn’t much light to reflect. Finally grabbing the small, rectangle-shaped bottle, Wallenstein popped the cork off if it. He smelled the contents, finding the scent of his herbal remedy to be indistinguishable. maybe it was the dispersing spell? 

Snapping his fingers, a flame sparked at his fingertips. His glove glowed down his palm, the solution in the bottle sparkling from something glinting at the bottom. 

Flicking his wrist at the candles to the side, they sparked with illumination, flames spreading from candle to candle to light the room. After a good 40 seconds, every candle in the room automatically lit, like a domino effect of flame. Wallenstein then glimpsed at the bottle, glowing a deep lavender color. After alchemizing the remains of Lute Infini, he had retained some ability to see color.. Though initially color blind, the philosopher’s stone had repaired his eyes and the body he inhabited. His eyes, in exchange for seeing the world in color, now blurred when he was without his glasses, however. The philosopher's stone could do a lot, and was hence the most-sought after alchemists’ lore. But using it seemed to have some negative effects due to its power. 

It may just be that Wallenstein was still an inexperienced alchemist, but a relatively talented sorcerer. Maybe it was the side-effects of the fact he was a demon. But this wasn’t his concern. 

Not reading the label, Wallenstein downed the contents of the bottle. The solid shards of fire opal melted at the heat in the back of his throat, turning to a cascading black liquid, glinting hot speckles of color in the back of his mouth. The treated northern wolfsbane, lavender and rabbit’s blood tasted bitter, but no materials were lethal to Wallenstein. Immune to most poisons and an incurable heat inside of his esophagus, the only thing he struggled to look past was the taste. While he didn’t worry about metal or glass or otherwise toxic materials, the bitterness and metallic, acidic tastes were normally what bothered him. Wallenstein’s metabolism worked like an incredibly efficient furnace and could metabolize nearly any material, even most inorganics.

Once the mixture was downed, Wallenstein returned the bottle to the shelf, covering his mouth as he exhaled a puff of blue flame. That really had a kick.. He suddenly felt energized, but decided that perhaps that was the effect of freeing himself from the hex. 

Sneezing suddenly, he puffed a soft orange flame into his hand, squeaking. How embarrassing.. His face covered in ash from the inside of his glove, he hurriedly wiped away the mess on his skin. Gross.. 

“Ah.. Perhaps someone is speaking of me.” Wiping at his felt black-tipped nose, similar to that of a goat, Wallenstein began the descent from his study to the mouth of his castle, where his dragon lay. This beast, affectionately dubbed “Fluffy” was incredibly smart and didn’t even mind the embarrassing name. As Wallenstein entered the room, it curled onto its side, proudly presenting its plated tummy like some sort of feline. 

Back to the Avies, the pouting dollmaker in his own castle. He whined aloud and laid on the floor, splayed out like some sort of dramatic model in a scenic painting. 

“Ohh, Adonis! Where are you, do not leave me in my misery!” This name, however, was not applied to the puppet dancing on his strings. A magnificent beast, a golden furred gryphon, adorned in decorative gold and red cuffs and ribbons, entered the room upon being commanded. This glorious mythos trotted across the room, then flopping down atop the puppet-master’s head, nearly crushing him. It took only a few moments for Avies to readjust, laying his head against the soft belly of the beast, that rolled on its side to give a soft, furry cushion of its tummy. 

“Adonis!” Avies cried, fidgeting with his puppets. He lifted them to dance atop his own chest, dropping the puppet of the accursed demon Wallenstein several times down onto his shirt. “It has been exactly three years since I lost that sponsorship with my proposal of the watchful quartz statues to the town… All at the fault of the Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein and his accursed dragon. The wild beast could burn down a whole village and nobody would care! They would simply let him do as he pleased!”

The beast purred beneath Avies’ head, the Golden Winged Messenger laying his puppets down on the cold floor. Adonis--as the gryphon was named, preened the man with his hawks’ beak, attempting to relax him with the peaceful pecks and prods. While Adonis had not been in the possession of the man for very long, they had grown very close, it seemed--as Avies gave him food and affection in return for a listening ear and wordless mouth. Plus, he seemed to be a wonderful sentient therapy pillow as Avies voiced his complaints for the day. 

Bringing his paws up, Adonis kneaded into Avies’ shoulder, keeping claws retracted. Avies then simply dumped the Wallenstein puppet on the floor, flicking his fingers to disperse the magic he sealed into it. The back of the puppet opened, ejecting a small vial filled with the DNA contents of Wallenstein--A single clip of his long, brown hair and a shave of gold from his horseshoes. Avies would never reveal how he obtained these. Adonis reached a paw out, cupping the vial beneath it as he rolled it closer to Avies, allowing his owned to pick it up. The vial, enchanted to keep the glass from breaking, was then safely stowed away in the puppet-master’s pockets.

Wallenstein, the magic now no longer dragging him down, had passed out the moment his puppet was thrown down for the third time. Such rough-housing would render anyone unconscious while under Avies’ influence. Fortunately, he dropped in his dragon’s lair. His physical form dropped unconscious on the floor, the hot rocks warm from the dragon’s touch sauna-warm. 

Fluffy was a sweet beast. He stood 14 feet tall, head and shoulders, wingspan big enough to possibly collapse the room. He stayed in the storage of Wallenstein’s castle, where he fit comfortably. While sometimes Fluffy took great joy in terrorizing the town and feeding off of stray sheep and the hordes of Wallenstein’s rivals, it was a very intelligent dragon. It leaned its head across Wallenstein’s body, small arms pulling him into the safety of his warm, scaly embrace. 

The two were very close. Wallenstein had discovered him as a juvenile wyrmling many years before, and took him under his wings. Having a pet dragon was very convenient, too. He could move long distances without a full spell or potion, and didn’t have to exert nearly as much energy carrying heavy objects or moving things when appropriate. 

The broad-shouldered, chromatic dragon was incredibly kind and timid, despite the normal stereotype of chromatic dragons being _evil_ and _cruel_ beasts prone to manipulation and violence. Its large, webbed wings flexed only to curl around its body, keeping the demon in a protective hug. His deep black scales glinted in the candlelight, reflecting the flames like stars in the sky in the otherwise dark room. Should he fly in the night--which he didn’t due to a bizarre fear of the dark, he would simply disappear. 

What a comfortable place to sleep. The dragon buried its snout in Wallenstein’s back, nudging his cape side to side to bury its nose in the fold of Wallenstein’s wings. Its heavy, scaly hands brushed through Wallenstein’s long hair, pulling it loose from its ponytail and around his shoulders. His hair was very long, and definitely needed a trim… 

Wallenstein nearly hibernated against Fluffy’s chest, all warm and cuddled up. It was surprisingly nice for him to sleep there, as the dragon’s skin and the hard rocks did wonders for his aching back by providing some sort of heat physical therapy treatment. For some time, he was given the opportunity to rest. It really seemed like his potion hadn’t done anything.. Several hours passed, and Wallenstein dreamt of a better time. While he didn’t sleep often, his dreams seemed peaceful since the passing of his Caller, the Wandering Alchemist who had bound him. 

His dreams were mostly memories of more favorable times and possible scenarios in Wallenstein’s adult life, had Lute Infini survived. The mornings would come, and he would be well-rested. While in mourning, Wallenstein never expected attachment to a mortal, much less what he had felt back in his days as a summoned lesser demon. But even so, he always knew death lingered around those not like his own, so this hurt slightly less over so many years. 

A sudden pounding on the castle’s front portal doorway excited Fluffy. He took the sleeping demon in his mouth. Daintily, like a mother lion gingerly carrying its cub between razor-sharp, metal-crushing teeth from point A to point B. It was surprising how gentle it could be, keeping its teeth from crunching in to Wallenstein's belly and side and readjusting him when able, using what could be referred to as scaly little hands. Wallenstein groggily woke when shifted, grabbing wildly to get a grip on both sides of the dragon’s face and trying to readjust to see what was going on. Instead, he was nearly slammed through a door that Fluffy headbutted through, showing a startled man and his much smaller gryphon standing all puffed up on the opposite side, along the drawbridge that had been lowered at daybreak. Cain Reprobus must have gone out in the early morning to perform the assigned morning chores, since the drawbridge was down. 

Like pet like owner, Avies’ entire body seemed to expand when frightened. While Avies’ hair and frilly outfit, along with that ridiculous hat, seemed to puff up to twice its original size, he seemed no more intimidating than before. Adonis looked like a fluffed and exasperated pillow, as well. His wings unfurled to its sides, nearly hitting the Golden Winged Messenger in the face. 

“Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein!” Avies started, stomping the impossibly high heels of his boots, cocking his head to look into the dragon’s mouth. “I have come to command you to right the wrongs you have committed! To repent for your sins!” Pointing his long, ringed fingers at the High Demon in Fluffy’s mouth, he stomped his heel several more times.

“Drop him, Beast!” This command was followed by Avies ever so fearlessly approaching the the dragon’s hand, low on the ground, and giving it a hefty stamp. Avies was a lightweight, so the dragon seemed completely unaffected by this. It found a comfortable spot to set Wallenstein--craning its neck to reach behind Adonis, and carefully set Wallenstein on his feet at the adjunct between the drawbridge and the edge of the moat. Wallenstein fluttered his wings before drawing them back in, hidden beneath his cape. While Fluffy did drool on him a bit, it was quickly evaporated due to his internal heat. 

“There are many sins I must atone for--but do you desire?” Calm and collected.. Wallenstein brushed down the front of his shirt, fixing the various unnecessary belts that adorned his torso. He balanced his hooves from within his boots, then brushed back the golden chains on his deep purple horns. 

“I must warn you, for every request you make, I must take something in return.. So command me at your own risk.” This was some sort of required disclaimer. Adonis turned to hiss at Wallenstein, tail and wings raised as he backed into Fluffy and Avies. They were cornered! 

Fluffy batted at Adonis’ backside, swiping him away and lifting Golden Winged Messenger into the air. Sharp teeth tore Avies’ hoop gown, rending the weak metal beneath the cloth. He did not puncture the man’s skin, but he was held indignantly dangling by the back of his dress. Avies grabbed for his own hair, helplessly pulling it out of the mouth of the beast, hat fluttering to the ground as he was thrust around violently in the air like a children’s toy.

“I DEMAND you release me, you smelly little skink!” Skink? And he was far from little. Fluffy exhaled roughly, mussing Avies’ hair with humid breath and giving him a rough shake. If he wasn’t careful, Avies would become a quick snack! Perhaps then the town would erect another statue in his honor.. But he knew if he wasn’t there to oversee it, they’d get it all wrong! Nobody ever sculpted his wonderful backside correctly, or his nose, for that matter! 

Adonis lay dramatically on the stone, pretending to struggle to get up. Wallenstein approached, standing between Fluffy’s hands, staring up at Avies as he made a poor effort to not get eaten alive. 

“Is that your one request? I don’t do favors, so you will have to give me something in exchange…” The Demon sighed, glimpsing behind him. The sun was just starting to rise.. Why did Avies come so early?

“No! I want something else! Make this disgusting little monster put me DOWN!”

Maybe Wallenstein could allow this. But, it was more effort than he wanted to exert at the moment. He waved his hand at Fluffy, signaling that.. he didn’t really care. Fluffy nodded, excitedly shifting Golden Winged Messenger in his mouth, pulling his lower body into his mouth. The heels of Avies’ shoes felt uncomfortable in his throat, but he didn’t so much mind.

Avies was immediately sweating and screaming, with genuine tears. He didn’t want to die! Much less be eaten and turned into disgusting dragon waste! Fluffy’s mouth was wet and molten-hot, making Avies sweat profusely. His concern seemed to be less “I’m going to be eaten and die” and more “I’m going to look ugly while I die!”

Avies didn’t really have his priorities in order. Fluffy started with worming his hot dragon tongue around Avies’ legs, reaching his hands up and lowering his head to poke at the puppeteer’s head, Avies kicking him hard in the back of the throat was going to end up making him vomit, so removing them would probably be for the best. 

Regurgitating Avies on the ground, Fluffy carefully picked at the man’s boots. Snapping his teeth at the heels, he had some trouble pulling away the thigh-high boots while Avies squirmed so vivaciously. 

“Wallenstein! Your dragon is undressing me! Make it stop, these boots were expensive!” 

“You are about to be consumed, and your concern is your boots..?” Wallenstein stared hard at the sweating, drool-covered man as Fluffy picked him up once more, since his boots were off. This would be a lot easier, now. Flipping Avies a few times, he decided it would be more comfortable to consume him feet-first now that the heels were off. He lifted Avies again, deciding just to swallow him whole.

Fluffy suddenly felt a searing pain in his throat. It spit up the spit-covered, gooey and sweaty Golden-Winged Messenger onto the ground, wriggling its head as it snapped its head downwards, trying to pry Adonis off of his throat. Apparently Adonis thought it was finally time to try to save his master! 

It snapped its beak into the delicate scales of Fluffy’s neck, prying a whole black scale off and exposing the hard skin underneath. Fluffy yelped and choked on Avies’ body, sticking his tongue out and dropping Avies several feet onto the ground. He was sadly even soggier than last time. Adonis snapped his beak against the dragon again, trying to dig his claws into the dragon’s skin. It backed away, leaving the whining, spit-soaked Avies crumpled on the floor. 

Adonis bound back to Avies, burying his face in the other’s hair. Avies whined at the beak poking at his neck, trying to drag him from the floor. The Golden Winged messenger felt completely humiliated, and instead kept his face pressed to the wooden flooring. 

“Dark Sorcerer Wallenstein! You’ve destroyed my clothing…! I command you to replace them immediately!”

“And that is what you have come here for? New clothes? I suppose you have heard the tale of the emperor’s new clothing..”

“I will not leave here in torn, dragon-spit soaked rags! I refuse to leave here in invisible clothing, either!”

“Then what is the true purpose of coming here in the early morning to harass me? I do prefer my privacy, you know.” Walking around the two, Wallenstein stepped up to Fluffy, rubbing its head as it lowered down. Fluffy nestled into his master’s hands, allowing it to be pet. Wallenstein laid his head against the other’s muzzle, rubbing up the base of its head. 

“I have come to tell you that you must replace my statue that you crushed!”

“Your statue?” Wallenstein raised his brows, turning to gaze at Fluffy. Fluffy simply shrugged at this, not having any memory of crushing a statue.. 

“Several years ago, you and your dragon came over during the middle of my debut of my fused quartz statue of my beautiful self, and you crushed it into shards! I cannot believe your arrogance! It took me MONTHS to carve that and was incredibly expensive!” Ah. Wallenstein now only remembered crushing the statue because Fluffy had cut his hands and feet, and required medical attention when he got home.

“Use cheaper materials,” Wallenstein suggested, nestling his head against Fluffy’s, playfully butting horns against his temple. “That way, it will cost less to remake. I don’t see why I must fix something transparent enough I did not see it--That is your own fault.”

“You WILL remake it, or I will bother you until the day you die! I am young and healthy, and I can most definitely torment you until you pass!”

Wallenstein almost lost it at this comment. He covered his nose and mouth as he snorted, a soft laugh leaving him. “Ohohoho.. You would be surprised. I really doubt you could out-live me even with the help of magicks.” Turning his head, he motioned for Fluffy to go back inside. Adonis and Avies were far from a threat, after all. The dragon was reluctant, but went back into the castle to get his breakfast out of the gem horde and from the drying rooms, where Knightmare turned corpses of wild animals he had caught into jerky. 

“I will not have to out-live you, because you will make me my statue! You are an alchemist, yes?”Avies didn’t really have room to make demands when he smelled like the ash packed at the bottom of a furnace, and was covered in sweat and spit. 

“Yes, I am. Though in exchange for something as time-consuming as a statue..” Wallenstein raised his hand, poking at his gloved fingers. He would pick at his nails if they weren’t covered, but he had to have some way to display his boredom. A statue? Of all things to ask for? “I will need something large in exchange..”

“I grace you with my presence! That is all you’ll get!”

“Well, it seems you will continue to… grace me with your presence if I don’t give you a statue, yes? So what will you give me? I do not provide my services for free.”

“You owe me! You have taken something I invested so much time in! You have destroyed my clothes AND my statue, so those are the dues I have paid!” 

“I do not owe you for replacements. So, what will you give me?” He would repeat himself until Avies made an offer or left. “I don’t have much patience for those not willing to pay. Either make an offer or leave.” 

Avies puffed and pouted, reaching into his pocket where he kept his vial with the hair of Wallenstein, and remnants from his horseshoes. With a flourish, he presented the bottle, sweeping his arms out to his sides. His sleeved dripped hot saliva. “I will give you.. This!”

“And what is.. this?” Mimicking the gesture, Wallenstein splayed his cape out with his wings, arms following the line of motion. He was mocking Avies! How rude! His cow tail flicked beneath the cape, as it had escaped the leg of his pants that he kept it tucked in. It swayed side to side, almost excitedly. It was strange that Wallenstein was having fun, but nobody really ever came to visit his castle, and Knightmare was a shallow husk of a person while under Wallenstein’s control. Avies seemed a little too hard-headed to be susceptible to his influence without effort, anyways.

“It’s your hair! And… hoof-stuff…” Avies rattled the vial, letting the inner components wobble about inside. 

“Why do you have those?” 

“I’ve had them ever since you crushed my statue! And I will not dispose of them until you make me a new one!” Avies tucked the vial in his chest pocket, patting it. 

“And.. What do you do with is? I find this uncomfortably akin to fetishism..” Wallenstein kicked his heel, shifting his hoof inside of his boot. How did he get scrapings from his horseshoes? That was.. very creepy. Avies sighed with exasperation, removing the vial once again. 

“I am a puppet master. Do you ever feel randomly exhausted? Or dizzy? Or do you drop unconscious suddenly?”

Ah. That explains things. Wallenstein crossed his arms, tail swishing much slower. His wings stretched out from under his cape, fluttering with a gruff noise from the demon. “Yes.” 

“That’s me!” He seemed proud. He lifted the vial, then tucked it back inside of his chest pocket hurriedly. “And I will continue to do it daily, whenever I have energy, until you make a new statue for me! I will only turn over my reins when you fix what you’ve ruined!”

Hm. Wallenstein might have to be careful with this one. It seemed Avies didn’t bring any puppets this time, so if he lured him and just took the vial.. Hopefully this could be easily done. While it only took a wave of the hand for some, many took something a little more intimate for mind control. Plus, this would temporarily restrict his control of Knightmare Fantail. He would have to wait until he returned to the castle before attempting to cast this hex on his new guest and future mind vassal. 

“Alright. That is a fair exchange… Your statue for my.. sheddings.” Stepping past Adonis and Avies, Wallenstein started inside without another word.

“And new clothes!” Avies interjected, chasing behind Wallenstein, grabbing his billowing cape. Wallenstein stopped the moment he was grabbed, and the taller man bumped into his back. With a nod, he agreed: 

“Yes. And new clothes.” Swatting Avies’ hand away from his cape, he proceeded into the drying room. Adonis seemed to immediately forget how angry he was the moment he smelled the drying meat on the racks, and started jumping at the boar corpses tied to the ceilings. He could jump several feet, but not high enough without fluttering. Avies clicked his tongue. 

“Stop that! We are GUESTS, Adonis.” Guests that barged in and demanded something with urges of threats, but still guests. Wallenstein brought his gloved hand up to his mouth and whistled, calling Fluffy into the room from the gem and gold horde next door. 

“Fluffy,” Wallenstein started, motioning at the boar. “Get that down for our.. Guests.”

The dragon happily did so, snapping it off of its binds in the ceiling, dropping it in front of the gryphon. Adonis immediately snapped his beak into the boar’s insides, prying it open to get the preserved meat inside. 

“Fluffy?” Avies snorted, kneeling next to Adonis. He ran his hand over the Gryphon’s fur, rubbing him playfully and ruffling his feathers. 

“That is his name. Do you have a problem with this?” Wallenstein answered coldly, reaching up to offer a pet to the dragon. It leaned its head into his hands, exhaling a small puff of smoke. 

“No, but what a silly name! What type of dragon is he, to be willingly named Fluffy?” Avies laughed, brushing his hands through Adonis’ fur, burying his face against his side.

“One that did not speak the same language when he was named.”

“Did you name him, Sorcerer?” Avies’ tone seemed incredulous and mocking as he sat up, leaning away from Adonis. His beak was messy with preserved meat, and smelled foul. Avies would make sure to give him bitter mints later to remove the disgusting scent of old meat. 

“Of course I did.” Wallenstein butted his head against Fluffy’s once more, rutting him with his capped horns. The gold caps meeting rough black scales prevented the dragon from being impaled, fortunately. 

“That’s actually adorable, I hope you know! I wouldn’t expect something like that from you.” Avies acted like he’d known him for years.. How uncomfortable, as they were practically strangers.

“Have we met before?” Wallenstein finally asked, leaning away from Fluffy. The Dragon turned and slipped away back into the horde, leaving Wallenstein with his arm outstretched, petting the air. 

“Of course we have! When you destroyed my statue!” Well, yes. But.. Wallenstein pondered this, raising his hand to his chin to pull at the soft feathers lining his jaw thoughtfully. 

“I meant another time. You act as if you know me personally.” Wallenstein’s memory wasn’t great, as he selectively forgot about things that he didn’t care about in the many years he had spent on the overworld.. But Avies seemed to believe he knew enough about him to assume he would not name a dragon “Fluffy.” 

“Well--No, I don’t believe so. But it seems out of character for a man who owns a terrifying black dragon, a castle, and is known for being terrifying.” Avies stood and approached Wallenstein. Avies was a tall, lanky man--standing at about 6’7”, even without his heels. His bodily proportions made him look like he was perpetually on stilts, with impossibly long legs. He seemed to be mostly limbs.

Wallenstein was much smaller, about 5’5” without the help of his horns and boots. With those, he was nearly 5’8”, though it didn’t make much of a difference. He was a very stout man, with a long grey cow’s tail. His purple, curled horns turned inwards, and was decorated with gold chains, caps, and various other adornments. Wallenstein’s nose was felty, warm and black-tipped, much like a goat or dog’s. Skin hot and a deep, soft brown, he never seemed to blush, but he radiated warmth from his body. 

His wings were wide and leathery like a bat’s, but thin enough to peer through. Hidden underneath his long, brown hair, silky and billowing around his shoulders, soft folded goat ears twitched to hone the direction of his hearing. It was pretty cute, for a high demon.

“Then don’t assume it is out of character. When the daytime comes, I will consider materials and decide on how to alchemize your statue.” 

“But I need clothes!” Avies. Come on. He stubbornly stamped his feet, wringing out his sleeves. Wallenstein sighed, winding his hand to motion for Avies to follow.

“I will let you borrow clothes from.. my housemate.” Housemate sounded a lot better than “mind-slave under my control because I placed a seal on his throat that gave me nearly complete dominance over his body and thoughts” and seemed almost accurate to the situation, but twisted the situation to demonize him a little less.. It wasn’t a complete lie, but..

Avies proceeded to follow Wallenstein, leaving Adonis behind in the room to eat and the entire boar, or until he was content. Fluffy would eat the bones or anything he left behind. Wallenstein wasn’t really sure what clothes Cain had in his room, as he never paid much attention. Surely something would fit Avies and give him the opportunity to change out of those nasty clothes. Being nice made his guests much easier to manipulate without issue, anyways. They felt comforted and content, and put up nearly no resistance, so he wasn’t too concerned about having any troubles guiding Avies.

“I must ask. What is your name, since you know mine?” Walking through the corridors, Wallenstein attempted to make himself as big as possible. There wasn’t much room in the hallways, so his cape swept both sides as Avies trailed behind. There was a lot of power in a name, as he knew.

“Avies Aurum! Learn my name, Dark Sorcerer!” Avies announced proudly, puffing up his chest. 

“I’ll make note of it.” Turning abruptly, Wallenstein headed inside of Cain’s room. The room was poorly maintained, a complete mess, with clothes and roses thrown messily on the floor. Through his window a rose bush bloomed, crawling up the side of the wall, decorated with violet florets. The Apostle of the Violet Rose could not escape his title even when he had no recollection of who he was..

But, well, Wallenstein supposed he wouldn’t get another opportunity. He paused and flicked his wrist while Avies observed the room, throwing up a small flame. Within it, he contacted Cain to order him to return to the castle soon. Cain did not argue or refuse, and simply blindly nodded within the communicating flame that functioned as a walkie-talkie of sorts. He would have to perform his seal without Cain being there, so his magic may wear thin and give him some memories, but this was probably the only opportunity Wallenstein would have to mind-wipe Avies while he was in such a state.

Wallenstein blew out the flame, getting Avies’s attention once more as he opened Cain’s drawers, invading his privacy in an attempt to get clothing to satisfy the other’s needs. In the top drawer, he knew Cain kept some.. rather inappropriate things, so he instead removed a pair of underclothes from the second drawer, and a plain-looking pair of shorts and a button-up shirt from the third drawer. Socks were in the bottom drawer, and he repaired another brown, plain pair. He presented this pile of clothes to Avies, who sneered at them in disgust. 

“You think I would DARE to wear these drab clothes?! I’m assured that your housemate does not have ONLY brown clothing!” Pushing Wallenstein to the side, knocking the clothing from his hands, the Puppeteer began to rummage through the drawers. He made a mess of everything, rifling through everything until he found a pair of neat purple clothing. While purple wasn’t particularly his color, he would cope!

Getting a pair of purple cuffed shorts, a black and purple tunic, and purple socks, Avies immediately began to strip of the sullied clothes he was wearing. Dumping his shirt on the ground among the pile of other discarded clothing, he motioned for Wallenstein to turn away while he removed his undershirt. The demon, instead, stared. He never broke eye contact aside from glimpsing at Avies’ body, focusing primarily on his hips and stomach. 

“Take a photograph! It’ll last longer!” With a grunt, he turned his back to the sorcerer, pulling off his undershirt. It was tossed back at Wallenstein, landing on his head, getting caught in his horns. Avies pulled on the tunic, securing it around his waist, pulling his pants off and discarding of them. While Wallenstein was busy trying to pull the shirt off of his horns, he changed his underclothes and pulled on the shorts and socks, dumping everything on the floor. He wouldn’t bother to clean it up! It wasn’t his fault and the room was a mess, anyways. 

Now completely dressed, Avies reached down into his shirt on the floor, locating his vial and tucking it inside of his shirt once more. An inside pocket on the tunic made it a nice place to stow something so vital in his trade! 

“There! Now you may look.” Turning on his heel, he looked back at Wallenstein, who was still having some trouble prying the shirt off of his head. Avies nearly laughed at him, and approached to help pry it off. Wallenstein immediately grew frustrated with being touched, however.

Exhaling a puff of blue fire, the sorcerer burnt a hole straight through Avies’ discarded shirt, still around his head. He, himself, did not catch flame--even the delicate fibres of his hair did not burn, while the shirt went up in flames, burning a hole directly through it like an odd scarf. 

“You can breathe fire?” Avies commented, taken aback. He pulled his hands away from Wallenstein’s head, tugging limply at the new fashionable burnt cloth hanging around his neck. 

“I am a Sorcerer. And a Demon. And Dragonborn. All aspects of myself point to the ability to use flames.”

Wallenstein sure did like to utilize those flames by prescribing some SICK BURNS! Avies seemed to ignore the comment about being a demon, as it was probably common knowledge, but Dragonborn was a new one. He held a hand in front of Wallenstein’s mouth, feeling him exhale. His breath was incredibly hot, much like a furnace held much too close.. 

“That’s a new one.” Avies commented, pulling his hand back once more. He wandered around the room, sitting himself on Cain’s bed. “So! How long will it take to make my statue?”

“As long as it takes,” Wallenstein mumbled, removing his left glove. “I am an alchemist. Not an artist. This will take as much time as I deem necessary.” Stepping up to stand in front of Avies, he lifted his hand, hovering it over Avies’ chest. The puppet master believed that he was just trying to show off his temperature, and reached up to take Wallenstein’s hand, grazing his arachnodactyly fingers over every joint of the sorcerer’s. His brown skin was impossibly warm and silky to the touch. Avies was almost about to ask him what kind of of lotion he used when he yanked his hand away, learning closer to Avies.

The sorcerer knelt down, parting Avies’ thighs, sliding his knee between them. His hand grazed along the other’s ribcage, setting over his heart.

“You will not complain,” Wallenstein tested, trying to gauge Avies’ susceptibility to his mind-bending. “And you will ask me for nothing.” There was a pause. Avies raised his hand, trying to move Wallenstein’s palm away from his chest.

“What are you doing?” He asked, plucking the wandering hand away one finger at a time. 

Ah. So he had some sort of willpower. Wallenstein rubbed over Avies’ heart, leaning in, mouthing against his throat. “You will do as I ask. Until I grow bored with you, you will stay with me and do whatever I say.” His hand began to glow a soft purple, but Avies was too distracted by the man nearly biting out his throat. 

“Why would I do that?” Avies still responded coherently, not phased by the spell Wallenstein was attempting to cast. Cain was the only one before who had been stubborn and bullheaded enough to resist to this point, so it seemed he’d have to go one step further. It was a rare occurrence, but apparently Avies was too resistant to controlling magicks for it to work. 

Wallenstein pressed his mouth to Avies’ neck, inhaling his smell. He used his free hand to tug at Avies’ hair, clipping a lock of gold hair from him, swiping it under his glove. With an exhale of pink smoke and a soft suck against his the puppeteer’s skin, he left a deep mark on the other’s skin. Prying away after an extended amount of time, he glimpsed up Avies. His golden eyes seemed glazed and his face was dark red. Wallenstein spoke as he pulled away, staring Avies in the face. 

“You will no longer question me. Avies Aurum,” A puff of pink left his lips and black-tipped nose, exhaling like cigarette smoke. “I am now in control of you.” 

Along the other’s throat, a black seal marked his skin. It seemed intricate for a curse, with several outward swirling designs, and a dark purple mark covered his throat down to where his fabric covered his skin. Wallenstein groped for the vial beneath Avies’ shirt, dragging his fingers over the meat of his pectorals. It didn’t seem to be there.. Avies exhaled roughly, trying to stop all of the blood rushing to his face and… somewhere else. That was weird. 

Avies finally managed to speak, clearing his throat and cupping a hand over the mark. After a few moments, he adjusted his hands to push Wallenstein away and cup a hand over his own groin. 

“Do you do this to all of your guests?” Avies flushed, embarrassed. He didn’t know what was going on, but getting felt up and kissed was.. really extensive. And really inappropriate. 

“It didn’t work?” Wallenstein seemed startled. He pulled away from Avies, cupping a hand over his own mouth. The same pink spoke slipped through his fingers. eventually fading out around them.

“What didn’t work? Making me get it up? Because, I have to tell y--”

“No!” Wallenstein interjected, a little flustered. It had never.. not, worked! He must be a true master of controlling magic! It was impossible to resist, especially with a true demonic seal placed on his body! “My magic. It didn’t work. How are you--coherent? How are you still doing this?”

“What are you talking about? Why did you grab my ch--”

“I wanted the vial. Where is it?” He didn’t really know what to do, now. Wallenstein awkwardly shifted, adjusting his weight on both of his hooves. 

“Other side. But you’re not getting it.” Avies huffed, adjusting his shorts a few times. He gripped his breast, where the vial lay tucked in his tunic-pocket. “Now that I know you’re trying to seduce me for my vial--you’re never getting it! Until the deal is complete! Make my statue and.. I guess… You can have the vial and do whatever you want!” 

“How did you completely ignore my mind-control?”

“Mind-control? Is that what you were trying to do? Jeez, you really are.. something.” Avies rolled his eyes and sat up, pulling at his tunic. This was absurd. Was Wallenstein trying to seduce him or kill him? “That’s my talent. I’m a puppet master and I can control anyone, even from a far distance. I am completely immune to.. whatever it is, you’re trying to accomplish.”

Avies stood, approaching the small mirror Cain kept hung on his wall. He was sure Wallenstein gave him a hickey or something.. Pulling away the cloth, he glimpsed at the neat new mark on his skin. That was.. way more than a hickey. He grazed his fingers over the mark, grumbling.

“You went through all this trouble to avoid making me a statue? You’re either incredibly dedicated or or unbelievably lazy. I hope this fades soon, it’s not classy to have a weird curse-hickey just above your shirt collar..” Totally un-phased. Wallenstein grabbed his arm, trying to twist Avies around. How could he just.. avoid any sort of affect at all?!


	2. Deeper

This was more than confusing. Wallenstein was lost, now. Avies turned to stare down at Wallenstein, gold eyes a deeper orange hue in the low lighting. He almost seemed angry and intimidating until he cocked his head, raising his nose in the air to proudly show off the mark, denoting that he was invulnerable. 

Wallenstein released his grip on Avies’ sleeve. Digging at the blackened flesh of his palms, he counted the runic symbols along the curve of his lifeline. Not a single one began to glow as he motioned at Avies. This indicated that he has absolutely zero effect on the other’s free will, rendering this arsenal of his talents useless. It seemed that while the other was so blunt, persistent, and kind of dull, Wallenstein had no manipulative ability on Avies. 

“And I took you for gullible.” Wallenstein mumbled, raising off of the bed, pulling away. Stepping away from Avies to pick up the clothes scattered about on the floor, he was curious about what just happened. His clothes all smelled like sulfur and mildew, just from spending a minute or two inside of Fluffy’s mouth. 

“I am far from it!” Avies announced proudly, focusing on the tail wagging beneath Wallenstein’s cape, very obvious now that Wallenstein had bent at the waist, shoving his backside in the air. He hadn’t paid much mind to it before, but it was hard to resist flicking the back end of Wallenstein’s cape up to get a good look at it. 

“So you are bull-headed and proud of it.” Wallenstein carried the clothing, lifting it up into his arms, no longer exposing his vulnerable rear to Avies. His tail once again hid beneath his cape, and he clicked his boots twice against the stone flooring to summon Avies' attention. It seemed the puppeteer was focused on something else. His tail was very hard to ignore, especially when it had been acknowledged prior. It was disproportionately cute for such an otherwise intimidating demon, swatting at the air when not confined inside of Wallenstein's pants or strapped to his thigh. 

“Absolutely! I will never feel bad about not being easily manipulated! And you will not get rid of me until I get my statue, even if you do feel me up once more and give me a thousand curse hickeys!” Avies gripped his chest, pulling the vial just enough to present it beneath the cloth. Wallenstein would make sure to know which side it was on before copping a feel, next time. While Avies wasn't so phased by the thought of rich purple and red bruises up his throat and down his collarbone, the unsightly black markings and swirls would be harder to cover up, and they didn't swell or ache as most hickeys did. Avies pressured his fingers into his neck, finding the area still warm from Wallenstein's mouth, but not sore. 

“Knightmare Fantail will be here soon. Let’s wash your clothing before he gets back.” Wallenstein sighed, heading back outside of the room. Maybe distracting him would deter him from pursuing another hickey or hassling him. Avies followed behind, a little too close for comfort as Wallenstein briskly trotted thruogh the hallway.

“I don’t simply want my clothes washed! I want a new outfit, made just for me, to replace the one you have completely destroyed! You will not get rid of me until these conditions are met!” Oh no. Avies was almost stepping on Wallenstein’s heels as he chased him down through the halls, initially heading to the demon’s living quarters. Avies' long heels would occasionally bump against the back of Wallenstein's boots, shifting his hooves inside. It was uncomfortable and hard to walk in boots already, but having Avies nudge him as if they were racing was an issue. 

What a bother. Wallenstein tried to avoid voicing his frustration, so in his normal monotonous voice, he responded: “You will choose between new clothes or a statue. I am not a seamstress and I am not an artist, I a--”

Avies interrupted, lowering his voice to mock Wallenstein’s. While his voice was high-pitched, he could almost perfectly impersonate the other. Maybe his high, grating voice was just for show or emphasis. “I’m an alchemist, bluh bluh bluh. I live in a big scary castle with a big dorky dragon, _who I allow to eat my guests,_ and I don’t appreciate art and crush statues for fun and I’m not a seamstress and I have ZERO TALENTS WHATSOEVER!” His voice cracked at the end, making pseudo mimic-Wallenstein sound like a 12-year old prepubescent boy. Wallenstein was unsure if this was intentional, or just Avies struggling to keep his pitch and volume. 

“I don’t sound like that,” Wallenstein huffed, puffing another cloud of purple smoke from his lungs. He seemed to be pouting, with his cheeks all puffed up with a hot flame inside. His cheeks illuminated with a soft glow from inside, revealing his capillaries inside of his face. Exhaling a flame as he spoke, he seemed to cough between the first few words. “And talent is an overrated concept. No one is immediately perfect at what they try to achieve, and though I definitely have a headstart in most skills, artistry is a waste of time.” Making a sharp left turn, they were now in a poorly lit, slightly larger library. This doubled as the living room, and was comfortable enough for Avies to room in, but it may be cramped for both of them and their pets. 

“Art is not a waste, Wallenstein! What a boring person you must be..” Without getting permission, Avies flopped himself on a couch in the corner of the library, draping his body across the cushions. He always seemed to make himself as big as possible. 

“I am far from a person, so I suppose this is true.” Wallenstein retorted, stepping behind one of many desks. He knew that he had a drying spell inside of the desk, as he always kept it for when he often spilled ink on his books. It would instantly dissolve any fluids if carefully poured on a wet object, but it was prone to minor burns if it made contact with skin and was fatal when consumed. 

A familiar sound echoed out from down the hallway. A squawk, but muffled, and a purr. Soft paws met the ground, nails clicking on the flooring.

“Adonis!” The Puppeteer cried out, calling to the gryphon. Within thirty seconds, Adonis ran into the library, flinging himself atop his master. Avies made a noise of offense at being squished beneath the beast's weight, but then playfully ruffled Adonis’ fur, fluffing it up some. The Gryphon nosily pawed at Avies’ chest, pointing out that he had changed clothes. They smelled different, and wrong. 

“Yes, Yes. I was given a temporary set of clothes, as he ruined by outfit!” Adonis nodded thoughtfully, but then grazed his beak against the other’s neck. He sniffed the black marking encompassing most of Avies’ throat before whimpering, pulling away and flattening the feathered tufts upon his head. He crawled off of the couch, keeping himself low and close to the ground with a deep growl booming from the back of his throat while he positioned himself to protect Avies. This growl as aimed at Wallenstein, and with the gryphon’s deductive reasoning, he concluded correctly that this was the sorcerer’s fault. He wasn't wrong, but he also didn't seem to understand that no harm had been brought to Avies.

“I will cook you.” Wallenstein threatened vaguely as Adonis approached, rolling his eyes and turning away to rummage through his desk once more. This exposed a rather fleshy, cow-like tail that would occasionally sway in and out of the sides of his cape. Soft and grey with a fluffy tuft at the end, it dangled much like a fisher's lure. 

Wallenstein finally located the vial, pulling it from underneath several layers of unsorted papers. This was a perfect opening, and Adonis leapt to bite Wallenstein's tail. He snapped his beak around the fleshy appendage, tugging the demon backwards and onto the floor. Wallenstein dropped the bundle of wet clothes on the floor as Adonis tried to take a chunk out of him, and the small, unstable vial exploded as it hit the ground, incinerating Avies’ outfit immediately with a sharp crackling sound. It sounded like a combination between the ending fizzle of a firework, and a gunshot. As his clothes went up in smoke, Avies gasped, startled. 

“Stop that!” Avies squawked, standing up to separate them. The gryphon tugged roughly at Wallenstein’s tail, like he was trying to rip it clean off. The only way to separate them was for Avies to clamp his hand over Adonis’ cere, effectively closing his nose so he would have to release.the tail in order to breathe. Adonis’ beak ripped away with the sharp tip snagging on Wallenstein’s tail, rending his flesh. Adonis yelped at a harsh burning sensation on his beak and across his face, whimpering as he escaped, rubbing his face on the couch to wipe whatever was burning away from his skin. 

When finally set free, Wallenstein grabbed his tail, holding it protectively in his hands. He wasn’t so high and mighty, now. Truly startled and unsettled, he rose to his feet, trembling some. His tail dripped blackish blood around his fingers, running off of his leather gloves and staining his sleeves. In a hurried movement, he tucked his tail into his belt loops, escaping into the hallway. 

“Adonis! Stay here. No more biting unless I am in imminent danger, thank you! He’s a completely useless tool and of no threat, and he can’t die until I get my statue! Plus, now I am down an outfit because of you!” Thank you, Avies. His concern meant so much, obviously. He couldn’t believe it! His clothes were TRULY ruined now! 

“Wallenstein!” Avies called, chasing the demon down the hallway. The blood left small acidic burns in the stone flooring, sizzling like a hot egg on a pan and sparking up in soft puffs of smoke. The blood would stain the ground until it would evaporate, leaving blackened ash where it met the floor. “At least his floors aren’t carpet or glass.” Avies mused. He could only wonder how Wallenstein did not melt from the inside out. 

He followed the hot, metallic smell to a dark room, more like a closet or hole in the wall .The inside of the room smelled like hot wax and burning candles, and was much warmer than the other rooms. “Wallenstein?” He asked again. While the room was quiet at first, the leathery flutter akin to the swish of a bat's wings being the only thing to break the quiet.

In the back of the room, a wooden desk Avies could not see rattled. It scraped across the floor, probably moved by Wallenstein adjusting. 

"I know you are in here," Avies insisted, stepping into the darkness. He would not close the door behind him, at risk of trapping himself in a dark room with an irritated demon. His hand remained on the door handle, just in case he had to run out quickly.

“Please leave.” Wallenstein’s voice seemed snippier. A gust of air seemed to hit Avies in the face, a soft flame framing the room for only a split-second before disappearing. Wallenstein was definitely inside, but the lack of windows or any lit candles made it hard to tell what was inside. He could only wonder what the purpose of this room was, as he currently couldn't see anything inside. 

“No! What is this? I can understand each aspect of you, but blood should not have such an impossible acidity!” Applying logic to such a situation was useless!

“I have been injured and I would like to be left alone,” Wallenstein insisted, not answering the question. The room seemed to pressurize with the strain and tension. “Leave.” Ugh. He was so stubborn! Avies didn’t know the room layout, nor did he have any matches, so it seemed like he would have to wait for Wallenstein to leave so he wouldn’t end up injuring himself. He stepped back and exited the room, slamming the door like an irritated child. While he turned back into the hallway, however, he bumped into someone approximately his size. Upon first guess, he thought that somehow, Wallenstein had teleported outside of the room.

Upon second thought, one much less realistic, he had guessed that Fluffy had somehow shrunk and slid through the corridors of the building like a snake. 

And finally, opening his eyes, he looked down at a man that matched his height. His hair was a soft teal color, eyes a vibrant, blank gold. His smile seemed to be vacant, but as pretend-genuine as possible. 

“Ah, good evening! Salutations..” He seemed hollow, and Avies immediately sensed it. While his voice seemed to show some genuine care, he could feel some degree of absenteeism. A shell, in a way. This man was built slender and tall, but somewhat muscular. Avies could describe him as “firm,” like one would describe a block of tofu or a hard-bound book. 

“Who are you?” Avies demanded. His blank, empty eyes seemed to gaze through Avies, a gentle, empty smile on his face. This man was a husk. 

“Knightmare.” As the sorcerer had stolen his old name, this was all he was left with. The Golden Guardian Knightmare Fantail, sworn to defend and protect the great Sorcerer Wallenstein. He bowed his head, taking the puppeteer’s hand. He guided it to his lips, introducing himself in full. “I am Knightmare Fantail. I see you have taken to my clothing. I will agree that it looks marvelous on you, my dear.” 

Avies scoffed, face flushed as the other kissed his hand, leaving a trail up his wrist to his forearm with the occasional glimpse upwards. Those soulless gold eyes would not blink, and he smiled once more as he topped off the beeline of pecks up to the base of Avies's wrist, turning his hand to expose the soft underside. 

“I am a MAN, you know.” But he was flattered, regardless. The Puppeteer glimpsed away, trying to force the deep red to clear from his face. 

“Love knows no boundaries, mon amie.” With a hum, Knightmare erected his posture, stepping around Avies. He brought one arm up as if he were going to clothesline Avies, but brought one hand up to graze across where his new nifty curse-hickey lay. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of Avies’ borrowed shirt, thumb hooking his collarbone. “But do watch your step. I wouldn’t want you falling for me.” With a soft laugh, he slipped into the room where Wallenstein was holing himself up. The door clicked locked once Knightmare entered, leaving Avies outside. 

 

Did Avies end up in a love dungeon with a +1 on dragons, or was it always like this? All he knew is that he had more action in the last 30 minutes than he had in years.


End file.
